


Changes

by tr_ash_tin



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Fighting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Sickness, Suicidal Ideation, the Refuge rip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 20:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17856293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tr_ash_tin/pseuds/tr_ash_tin
Summary: Since the strike, Jack got busy. Despite this change in lifestyle, Jack would be damned if he didn’t notice the change in his oldest and closest friends demeanor.





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Me and my girlfriend were like OWO and thought of this and it just be like that sometimes......
> 
> possible chapter two? lol

It was a subtle shift, one he was reluctant to admit he didn’t notice immediately.

 

After the excitement died down, Jack began to notice Crutchie’s changes more fervently. His everlasting smile dropped more often, especially when he thought no one was watching. He was more withdrawn, not to say that he wouldn’t talk if talked to; he simply wouldn’t instigate conversation as much anymore. Jack at first didn’t think too much of it at first, only reasoning that he was recovering still(Jack’s heart panged in sympathy and guilt for his friend). He really only began to actually worry when Crutchie picked a fight with Race. And not just an argument: Jack physically had to pry Crutchie off of Race, and Davey, who was spending the night, had to pry Race from Crutchie.

 

“Youse just a dumb crip, I dunno why I’s even bothering!” Race shouted as he was pulled from the room, and there was a fire in Crutchie’s eyes, but he made no movement. Jack never did find out the instigator of the fight. Jack kept a closer eye on Crutchie, even throughout his transition from full-time newsboy to part-time comic artist/part-time newsboy. Crutchie came home with more bruises than normal, but he ended up rarely fighting with any of the other newsies after that. Things started to settle into a state of neutrality in the lodging house, and even Crutchie and Race ended up making up, at least from what Jack could tell.

 

Hot days began to turn into temperate days, and the trees in the park started to turn red and yellow and all the colors of the setting sky. The temperature hadn’t dropped too low yet that Jack and Crutchie had felt obligated to sleep inside yet; although, Jack hadn’t been sleeping up there as often anymore. Nor did he see Jack when he awoke much anymore.

 

Jack worked at the office in the morning, and escaped the stifling atmosphere to sell the evening papers with the other newsboys; therefore, he woke up earlier than all of them now and didn’t see them in the morning. If Jack had been there in the mornings, he might’ve been able to see things start to take a turn for the worst. Crutchie was always out in the evenings selling, taking several more than normal, but Jack figured Crutchie decided to take advantage of the deal that was made during the summer.

 

Crutchie began to stare longingly at the polluted skies, probably wanting to be able to see the stars late at night, but he never talked to Jack about stuff like this. They mostly talked about inconsequential stuff, like work, the weather, and the such. It’s tired, but Jack really didn’t know where to start with his friend who was obviously hurting. He knew it would bite him in the ass soon if he didn’t figure something out, but Jack wasn’t the emotionally strong one: he only offered fanciful dreams to the world, that would likely never leave from the realm of sleep.

  
  
Jack wasn’t surprised, but rather worried when one of his boys came to him during his break.

 

“Jack?” Specs said, adjusting his glasses nervously. “Can we talk? Like, alone?” He said.

 

Jack looked at him with a peculiar look, but Specs looked… Worried. In a way he hadn’t seen since he handed him a tattered and stained letter during the strike. “Jack, ya know I wouldn’t bug ya unless it was important,” he said, and Jack nodded.

 

“Lemme just tell the others that I’s gonna clock out early.” Specs looked at him ludicrously.

 

“I just need to _talk_ to you-” He didn’t want Jack to get in trouble with his new job. Jack grinned and shook his head. “Nah, needed some fresh air anyway.”

 

Jack told his boss that he had to go with little incidence, besides the typical “Don’t let it happen again” speech he got every time he did anything. Don’t sit on the desks, don’t randomly telegraph your girlfriend, don’t put a bunch of mousetraps where people will step on them. You know, the normal stuff. Jack escaped the building with Specs.

 

“So, what’s goin’ on?” Jack said when they were out of dodge. Specs looked down, before fidgetting with his glasses again.

 

“Well, Jack, you see,” he said, mulling over his words. “None’a us can get Crutchie down from the roof. He don’t sell in the mornings no more, but he’d usually come down for some food by now. ‘N when one of us tried to go up to him, he threw his shoe at them.” He said rather bluntly, and Jack turned away so Specs didn’t see him pale.

 

“I’ll go get ‘im down, don’t worry.” Jack felt eyes burning through his skull.

 

“What if he throws stuff at ‘cha?” He said, and Jack waved him off.

 

“Well, he’s only got two shoes, yakno? I’d be surprised if there was much else to throw ‘sides from the roof itself.” Jack smiled at Specs, getting his pallor under his control. “Thanks for the heads up though.” Jack didn’t fail to notice the half-full bag of papes in his tow. “You better go sell those ‘fore the evening pape comes out.” He laughed, and they went their separate directions.

 

As expected, as Jack began to climb the ladder, he got assaulted by a flying shoe, but this did little to deter Jack.

 

“I’m comin’ up, whether you like it or not Crutchie!” He called, and he made it up without any more fight from the other, which worried Jack. The sight worried Jack even more. Crutchie sat on the opposite side of the railing, his feet dangling, feeling the gravity pulling him towards the ground. He looked down the thirty-foot drop, and Jack could barely see his face. Jack was almost glad for this since the sliver he saw was blank. It was blanker than a new sheet of paper, an untarnished terrain. Jack scurried up the rest of the ladder, making it to the landing of the rooftop.

 

“Crutchie?” He called to the body, who did little to stir. After calling his name another time, Crutchie finally spoke.

 

“Jack, let me be.” He said, not removing his eyes from the sidewalk far below. Jack wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but he was sure it wasn’t good.

 

“No, I ain’t leaving ‘til you get your ass back over the railing.” Crutchie didn’t say anything again. “Crutchie, c’mon,” Jack almost whined in pure worry for his friend. “What’s the matter?” Crutchie’s shoulders tensed.

 

“ _Nothing’s_ the matter, Jackie, why can’t you just stop being… Being… _you_ for five minutes?” He snapped. “Just leave me alone.”

 

Jack frowned. “You’re worryin’ everyone, you know.” Jack leaned on the railing, looking down to Crutchie, who was down the slope of the roof on the gutter. Crutchie snapped, turning around to him. Jack worried the expression on his face would haunt him for many nights to come.

 

Crutchie’s face was paled, and tear tracks ran down his face. His hair hung in front of his face, but his eyes haunted him the most. They were red from crying, but there was no light in his eyes: all the life had left his eyes like he was looking at a dead person rather than his best friend. It terrified Jack to his core. Jack barely registered the following words.

 

“Does it _look_ like I care?” He yelled, and this time Jack was silent, no idea what to say. Crutchie got a look of recognition in his eyes, before turning his eyes down. He looked back to the street below. Crutchie mumbled something.

 

“If you ain’t gonna come here, I’m comin’ down,” Jack said, climbing over the railing. Crutchie flinched.

 

“You really shouldn’t.” He said quietly. Jack didn’t move from his spot.

 

“Why?” Jack asked, and Crutchie didn’t move.

 

“Even if I wanted to,” He said, “I couldn’t make it back up to the landing.” He stated simply. “

 

Why does that even,” Jack paused. His eyes widened into saucers. “No,” He mumbled. Crutchie took a shaky breath.

 

“I think so.” His voice cracked.

 

Jack’s heart broke, putting the pieces together: how hadn’t he noticed it sooner? He’d been relying more on his crutch, went to sleep even earlier… “I didn’t think you could catch it twice,” he said unbelievingly.

 

Crutchie stared down at the city. “If I gotta go, ‘least let me go out on my own terms.” Jack’s throat was tight, pained. He slid down the roof, sitting beside his best friend. Crutchie was crying, but Jack just hugged him tightly.

 

“I ain’t givin’ up on you so easily,” He mumbled into his ear. Crutchie let out a quiet whimper, and tears soaked his shirt.

 

“We got more options now, Kath can find a doctor. Youse gonna be fine, Crutch, Ya gonna be just fine.” He whispered into Crutchie’s ear, holding him tightly as they cried in tandem. Their cries started to slow after what seemed like an eternity, and Jack reluctantly let go, though still having an arm wrapped around him.

 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Crutchie looked down, but Jack turned his head back to face him and away from the street. Crutchie didn’t look him in the eyes.

 

“You— youse livin’ a whole new life out there. And I never wanted you to hav’ta worry about— about a dumb crip like me.” He mumbled holding back more tears. “I—Nothin’s the same since, since, since July, an’ I have a feelin’ they’ll never be the same again. You’ve changed, and, I’s changed, and now, now this, and,” Crutchie started to work himself up, but Jack squeezed his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. “Iunno,” he said after a brief silence. “I’s been to the refuge before, but… Iunno.” He mumbled. “It just feels like somethin’ inside of me’s broke.” He said. Crutchie rarely opened his heart like this to anyone, even Jack, so Jack made sure to listen intently. Once Crutchie finished, Jack began to refute him lightly.

 

“Crutch, you ain’t no dumb crip. Youse one of the strongest of us.” Jack said simply. “And I don’t _care_ if you’s changed, cause you know what?” Jack said. “No matter what, you’s still Crutchie. And that guy? He’s my best friend. ‘Til the day I die.” Crutchie looked away.

 

“I don’t wanna get you sick, Jack.”

 

Jack rolled his eyes. “I don’t get sick, you know that,” Jack said, before scooping Crutchie up. Crutchie flailed, telling Jack to _let him down,_ and Jack just laughed.

 

“I’ll let you down when we get to safety.” He said, and Crutchie continued to pound his fists on Jack’s chest. To his promise, Jack let him down on the metal of the rooftop, and Crutchie almost pouted: Jack might not’ve known that he’d been crying if it wasn’t for the redness of his eyes and if he hadn’t been there. Jack smiled a little. “Let’s get downstairs, then we’s gonna get a doctor to check on you, ‘kay?” Crutchie rolled his eyes but still nodded in agreement. Jack made his way to the ladder, and Crutchie grabbed to his pant leg.

 

“Jackie?” He said. Jack looked down to his oldest and closest friend.

 

“Yeah?” He said, and Crutchie continued.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and Jack just smiled.

 

“Yea, well what’re friends for? Now let’s get down from this deathtrap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the butchering of the brooklyn accent lol


End file.
